


la lune

by mxntparnasse



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Montparnasse focused, Not all that graphic tbh, Sadness, sorry - Freeform, this is not a happy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 10:28:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6902197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxntparnasse/pseuds/mxntparnasse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>death has never bothered him before now</p>
            </blockquote>





	la lune

The gunfire had long since quieted when Montparnasse dared venture back out on the streets. His boots splashed in puddles of blood, shining black in the moonlight.   
"Jehan? Jehan?" he called, swallowing a tremor that threatened to make his voice crack.   
There was no answer from the silent avenues.   
The boys on the barricade were numerous, their faces so pained it shot a pang through even Montparnasse.   
"I'm sorry," he said softly to the closest, a young boy whose face was mangled, but- wait. Wait.   
"Gavroche. Dear god, Gavroche," he whispered, falling to his knees. For once, he didn't care about the sticky drying blood that clung to his trousers. He closed the one dull blue eye that was still intact and stroked the part of his hair that wasn't matted with blood. "You deserved so much more. Goodnight, little gamin."   
He stood, fighting tears at the waves of memories swamping him. He and Eponine had practically raised Gavroche themselves, and now they were both gone. Damn this barricade, damn this revolution, damn the soldiers and damn, damn, damn their guns. If he could only find Jehan alive- it wouldn't be okay, not by a long shot. But it could get just a bit closer. 

Jehan was alive. He was alive, but Montparnasse had to be more careful what he wished for.   
He was lying on the ground, body sprawled on the cold cobblestones. He was staring up at the moon, but the usual tranquil smile at the sight was replaced by a horrific mask of agony.   
"Jehan, Jehan, my little bird," Montparnasse gasped as he knelt for the second time. Jehan's head turned, and the pain on his face seemed to fade just slightly.   
"Never... Never told me it would hurt like this."   
"Shhh, conserve your strength. You'll be okay. You'll be okay."   
"Won't be. Hurts..."  
Montparnasse felt sick. Jehan looked as if he was already dead, face drained and haggard.   
"May I lay beside you?"   
"Your hair..."  
"I don't care for my hair, not just now. I care for you, my dove."   
A smile twitched across Jehan's face.   
"Yes."   
Montparnasse didn't let him see the switchblade in his hand, didn't let him feel it as he carefully slit his throat. It wouldn't hurt him any more than those monsters already had.   
"I love you, Jean Prouvaire. Know that."   
"I love you too, Montparnasse."  
Montparnasse choked on a sob.   
"Alexandre. Alexandre, that's my name."  
"Love you, Alexandre. The moon... Lovely tonight."   
"Let us lie together and look at it like we always have."   
"Couldn't say no to you."   
Montparnasse watched Jehan die, swallowed the last breath from plump pink lips with his own. He was alone, now, well and truly. 

 

Just days after the revolutionaries were buried, a boy's body was found sprawled over the Prouvaire mausoleum, illuminated only by the full silver moon. He was wearing makeup and a corset like a woman and had a bottle of absinthe tightly curled in one frozen hand. He was buried in an unmarked grave by the unclaimed revolutionaries, next to a boy with half his face blown off and a girl who could've been sleeping but for the hole straight through her torn dress and tattered body.


End file.
